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A noble Peer of mickle trust, and powerHas in his charge, with temper'd awe to guideAn old, and haughty Nation proud in Arms:Where his fair off-spring nurs't in Princely lore,Are coming to attend their Fathers state,And new-entrusted Scepter, but their wayLies through the perplex't paths of this drear Wood,The nodding horror of whose shady browsThreats the forlorn and wand'ring Passinger.And here their tender age might suffer perill,But that by quick command from Soveran JoveI was dispatcht for their defence, and guard;And listen why, for I will tell ye nowWhat never yet was heard in Tale or SongFrom old, or modern Bard in Hall, or Bowr.
Bacchus that first from out the purple Grape,Crush't the sweet poyson of mis-used WineAfter the Tuscan Mariners transform'dCoasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,On Circes Iland fell (who knows not CirceThe daughter of the Sun? Whose charmed CupWhoever tasted, lost his upright shape,And downward fell into a groveling Swine)This Nymph that gaz'd upon his clustring locks,
With
